Of Magic and Moonlight
by Lonely-soul101
Summary: When it comes to werewolves, one should always expect crazy. But becoming the Marrok's mate? Morgana has never even met the man before, and just by making eye contact, she suddenly becomes the mate to the most dominant, powerful, and dangerous wolf in the world. Another thing to add to her list of "Problems-that-might-kill-me." Especially when King Arthur wakes up.
1. Welcome to Aspen Creek

Morgan hated four things.

One; her name. Her mother had name her Morgana Roswell Evetts, after Morgana le Fey, the great and evil witch. King Arthur's demented nemesis? Yes, her. Who names their child after the bane of Camelot? Her mother, that's who. And, Roswell. Come _on._ She was named after a _U__FO incident._ Not the college professor, not the place. The incident.

Two; magic. It was the bane of her life; always causing problems, always hurting people. Always killing the ones who were loved. And yet no one would admit to it's existence. Even though the Fae _and_ the werewolves came out a while ago, many scientists still refuse to believe in magic. So, of course, everyone either thought she was crazy or stupid. Or, if they knew of it, they'd use it on her in terrible ways.

Three; her step-father. He was the second one, and by no means meager man. He was tall, muscled, and quick-tempered. He was, after all, the Alpha of the New Orleans pack. He claimed her mother was his mate, and she would soon be changed, when her two youngest were old enough to be sent away to safety, without misunderstanding. He had no qualms taking away a mother from a girl who'd known no one else, and from two young children who'd made their lives around her entire existence.

Four; men. Her biological father had walked out on her pregnant mother, never to be seen again. Her past step-father had abandoned her, always ignoring her presence when he came to pick up his own children, her ten year old sister, and six year old brother. Her only boyfriend - whom she dumped about four months ago after about a year and a half of dating when he turned out to have some serious mental issues - had been an emotionally abusive creep with no boundaries. Men were the reason she couldn't really obey the werewolf chain of command (or so everyone thought). She'd never truly been exposed to any form of male-dominance, and, therefore, lacked the understanding and the sense to be cautious and submissive around her new step-father's pack.

Men were also the reason she was being sent away.

In declaration that she would be killed otherwise, her stepfather convinced her mother, her adoring, loving, all the caring mother, that Morgan had to be sent to Aspen Creek, with his sister, to learn how to survive in wolf culture. So she wouldn't be eaten, he said.

But Morgan knew a bullshit story when she heard it.

Especially when her step-father's Third informed her he was sending her away because she was the closest thing her mother had to a voice of reason, and thus prevented her from taking the Change now. Her step-father's Third and Fourth objected to the decisions he was making, saying he was going to end up like Leo of the Chicago pack. It was the only reason why they'd informed her of his ulterior motives. Because they did _not_ like her.

She'd left a seed of doubt in her mother's mind before she left; without her there to undo her own words, her mother would not Change. Not yet. She had about half a year until her mother caved.

Six months to learn what takes many several years.

Hoo-fucking-ray.

She stepped out of the cab, lugging her cat carrier and instrument cases behind her. The driver helped her unload her remaining luggage from the trunk, placing them by the bench. She examined the desolate bus stop; it was the place. The question was, how long would it take?

"Are you going to be alright here, sweet heart?" The cab driver, an older man with graying hair under his cap, looked genuinely concerned. She smiled at him. "I'll be fine. My ride will be here shortly." She reached into her smallest, nearest bag, pulling out her wallet. She handed him the few hundred that was the proper amount, cringing as the wads were stashed away in his money pouch. He handed her back a fifty, about twenty-seven dollars over the change she should receive. "I only need-"

He shushed her, winking. "Good luck to you, little lady." She saw a twinkle in his golden-brown eyes, like a distant star. "You'll be needing it, out here in wolf country."

She bit back a thanks, realizing this was no old man. "Have a safe drive."

He tipped his hat politely, slipped back into the cab, and drove away, leaving Morgan to sit alone with her instruments, luggage, and cat. The orange glow of the full harvest moon gazed down at her from a starry night, partially obscured by the tall forest trees. Howls echoed in the distance.

_'Werewolf country. Hm...'_

Gunshots made her clench the cat carrier.

More shots made her tuck the feline box under the bench, covering it with her jacket. She placed her heavy suitcase and instrument cases around the carrier, attempting to shield the cat should anything come their way.

A bloodied wolf threw itself against the side of the bus shelter.

Morgan let out a swear, leaping back on reflex. There were throaty growls, but the wolf dropped to the ground, worming slightly. Morgan's breath caught in her throat. It was too big to be a regular wolf, but...

_'That's the smallest werewolf I've ever seen.'_

He (or was it a she?) was a gray that seemed darker in the moonlight, with a white tip on his tail. Through the glass, pale gold eyes peered at her curiously. It made her shiver; something warm and silky caressed her skin, but she could see nothing. Wobbly, she rose to her feet; the wolf growled. Carefully, slowly, eyes downcast, she lowered her self to her knees, as to at least attempt to put her head at eye level. She stooped to just above the ground, apparently satisfying the wolf; his growling ceased. She managed to crawl around the glass shelter, well aware of the wolf's eyes.

A pair of neon-feathered arrows sprouted from his right flank, where all the blood came from. She could see a small cut; a bullet had grazed him. Her lips pursed, eyes narrowing at the wounds. She knew, and hated, those tools.

"Hunters."

The wolf growled, eyes turning towards the forest line. A group of rowdy, possibly drunk, men, wearing the camouflage and neon vests of hunters, tumbled from the woods. They were well armed, with crossbows, rifles, and a pair of foaming mouthed dogs, both of whom were choking on their harnesses to get at Morgan. She sprang to her feet, attempting to ignore the low, dangerous growls from the werewolf.

"Well, look-ee here!" The pot-bellied man with a balding head of red hair pointed at Morgan jokingly. "It's a pretty little girl!" The others cackled. "Think she's a wolf-girl?"

_'These guys are piss drunk, stupid, and as graceful as bulldozers. How did they manage to hurt a werewolf?'_ She glanced back down at the wolf's wounds, then their weapons. Silver. _'Shit.'_

"What do you think you're doing?" She asked, trying to keep her voice steady. And loud. _'No wolf runs without a pack, right? Oh, tell me there's a pack. Please let there be a pack.'_

"We're monster hunting, Sweet heart." A gangly man pointed his rifle at the wolf, who was now shielded by her slight frame. "That there's a monster; a werewolf." The pot-bellied man pretended to howl, choking on his beer. "It's a dangerous beast. Better move aside so we can finish it, doll."

She scowled, forcing herself to look offended; she was trying not to laugh at their antics. "This is _not_ a werewolf." She crossed her arms, cocking her hips. "He's my _dog_. I let him run loose for a while to burn off the energy from sitting in a car for hours on end." She snapped. _'Please, go with the flow.'_

"Nu-uh. It ain't no dog. That's a human-wolf, baby-cakes." Another man, one much more muscled and his accent thick. _'A true redneck in the Cabinet.'_

"He's my _dog_. I can prove it; if you let me pull out the arrows, he'll come when I call." She tilted her head, hoping they were drunk enough. "Please, let me try. I can't loose my darling boy." She spoke slowly enough and sweetly enough, laying a thick scoop of flirt on the words. The hunters paused, before he gangly one scowled. His crossbow was aimed at her chest; the wolf snarled viciously.

"Step aside, sweet heart. I don't want to have to hurt you to kill that thing." He said, voice more level than the others; he was not as drunk. Or not at all.

"You'd hurt a little girl just kill her dog?" She fluctuated her voice, making it seem more weary and delicate. The wolf continued to growl; she could hear the soil shift as his weight moved. The hunters all moved back; the wolf limped its way to stand in front of her. Morgan almost would have been flattered if the move hadn't been so stupid. She could see more blood gush from the wounds, the arrows moving in such a way she almost felt nauseous. She carefully moved herself, standing beside it. "Easy, boy. It's alright..." She stopped. _'Shit, name, name, name...'_

_"Bran."_

She almost blinked at the smooth voice that rang in her head, but she forced herself to stay composed. Her hand gently rested on his back, near his left shoulder, and away from the bullet graze. "It's alright, Bran."

The gangly man shifted uncomfortably, eyes throwing frantically to the forest line. Growls echoed Bran's; Morgan could see eyes peering at them from the darkness, reflecting the full moon's light. The drunk hunters didn't seem to notice them; they were to focused on either their beer or their standoff with Morgan and the werewolf.

A cat yowled.

Morgan had no time to react when her small, gray tabby sprang from her carrier, pouncing on the pot-bellied man. Claws met the soft, vulnerable flesh of eyes, before the cat leapt across the green and into Morgan's arms. The wolf, Bran, turned his head slightly to the wolves in the woods; his growls softened. The eyes faded away, backing into the darkness. The hunters were panicking over pot-bellies eyes; though they weren't truly damaged, the skin around them looked like the cat had used them as a scratching post. The muscled red-neck turned on her, face blotched with boiling red anger. "You little bitch."

Morgan shifted uncomfortably as his rifle was aimed at her. The wolf snarled, tensing in preparation to pounce. She gripped his fur, biting back her own fear. Her chest was burning, breath coming out hot.

The gangly man suddenly stopped fussing over his friend. He looked at Morgan with suddenly bold green eyes, even greener than the trees around them. It made her skin crawl, made her spine shiver, made her back behind the werewolf who was injured. He smiled quickly, making his face look suddenly thinner than it was. Like...like it wasn't really his face.

_'Dear gods, he's..__.'_

"I think the girl has made her point." She didn't know what everyone else heard, but Morgan heard a deep, throaty rumble of a voice. It seared her ears, left burning pain in her head. The humans looked at him, suddenly entranced; the wolf bristled. "That's her dog. Let's go." He shouldered his weapon, turning. The bleeding pot-belly and the muscled red-neck turned, as if in a trance, and followed the Fae down the road.

Morgan felt her knees buckle. Wolves howled. Her cat leapt from her arms as she hit the ground.

* * *

Bran nosed the hunters when it was too late.

It was the full moon; the whole pack was out, even the new wolves. His younger son, Charles, and his mate Anna, were assisting him in keeping the new ones in line while the older wolves went off to hunt more seriously. It was an easy night. There was plenty of game, the pack was having fun, and he felt some relief from the misery and sporadic rage he'd been feeling for some time. He enveloped himself in the hunt, keeping only enough humanity to control the new wolves.

Then he caught the scent of humans.

Hunters, wearing bright orange vests. He only had enough time to dive in front of Anna before an arrow pierced her side. Instead, it burrowed itself in his flank, the silver burning all the way.

The other wolves howled, Charles bristling. Bran snarled at the trees, towards where the hunters were positioned. _'Get the wolves to the rest of the pack. I don't want any deaths tonight.'_ He ordered Charles, who nodded once. Anna whined as Bran shakily rose. He nipped her nose softly, before urging her to assist Charles. As the newer wolves were forced away, Bran shielded one of the stragglers from anther arrow, hitting almost an inch away from the first. His howls echoed the night, alerting the whole pack.

Then he ran.

He had no clue as to where he was running. He just ran, assured that the hunters were following by their hoots of joy and their clunking footsteps. He heard a gun fire; a hunting rifle. Something burning skid across his left shoulder. He ran, even though the silver burned through his blood. He ran faster, attempting to now lose the hunters, his pack now out of rang.

He smacked into a wall of glass.

_'Did I run all the way to the highway?'_ He dropped, unable to stand. His weight pressed against the wall; a bus shelter. He heard someone swear, a girl. He managed to crane his neck, turning his head far enough to see a young girl sitting on the bench. She was a quaint girl; olive toned skin, long, rich brown hair wove into a braid past her hips, and wide, almost glowing green eyes. She looked afraid, or rather, shaken by his appearance.

Bran will never understand why, or how, but the instant her eyes met his, a mating bond settle into his being.

This was a sensation he knew. First Blue-Jay Woman, then Leah. He'd had two mating bonds. So he recognized the sensation of the ancient and uncontrollable magic sliding into his bones, nestling a meager link between him and the young girl. He could feel a trickle of her emotion, of the shock of him, and of the deeper, more intense emotions that were buried away. He felt the pain she felt at the potential loss of her mother. He felt a loneliness he himself felt before, one only caused by being abandoned by those you love.

She shivered; she'd felt it. The Beast stirred as Bran was caught off guard in complete and utter confusion. It gazed upon the human girl, taking her image in. A hunger he'd not felt since Leah's death swelled inside him.

She dropped her eyes, lowering to her knees. Something in him burned at the sight of her crawling around the bus shelter and to him. She had lowered her head to be beneath his, but he felt..._regretful_, like he'd made her do such a thing. She examined his wounds without touching him, before her rosy lips pressed together, her eyes narrowed. He felt her anger through the new and completely unexplainable mating bond.

"Hunters."

Her voice was a lovely, soothing medley, washing over him in a cool wave. Suddenly the silver didn't hurt so bad.

The hunters came stumbling out of the greenery. Bran tensed, growling. He not only had to protect his pack and secret, but this young, mysterious girl who was - somehow - his mate. She sprang to her feet, turning her back to him. Stupid, even though it was to protect him. He'd have to teach her otherwise.

"Well, look-ee here!" The pot-bellied man with a balding head of red hair pointed at the girl with a chubby, sausage finger. Bran could see himself ripping it off. "It's a pretty little girl!" The other humans cackled. "Think she's a wolf-girl?" Another joked, nudging the pot-bellied one, who fell on his rear with his laughter.

_'How did idiots this drunk manage to even walk straight, much less stalk a pack?'_

"What do you think you're doing?" Her beautiful voice once again made his growls falter, but only slightly.

"We're monster hunting, doll." A thin, tired looking man pointed his rifle at Bran. The girl positioned herself as a shield in front of him; another stupid, but bold, move. "That there's a monster; a werewolf." The pot-bellied one pretended to howl, choking on his beer. "It's a dangerous beast. Better move aside so we can finish it, doll."

Her amusement trickled into him; she found their drunken demeanor funny. "This is _not_ a werewolf." She was good at keeping her voice straight. Her hips cocked to the side slightly, displaying attitude, a way to inform the hunters, with body language, that she wasn't going to be playing any games. "He's my _dog_. I let him run loose for a while to burn off the energy from sitting in a car for hours on end."

"Nu-uh. It ain't no dog. That's a human-wolf, baby-cakes." Another man, one much more muscled and his accent thick like Sage's, shifted with his rifle. Bran felt a spike of anger run through at the nick-names they were giving her.

"He's my _dog_. I can prove it; if you let me pull out the arrows, he'll come when I call." The girl's head tilted; something delicate laced her voice. "Please, let me try. I can't loose my darling boy." She spoke slowly enough and sweetly enough, the flirtatious words making Bran shiver. The hunters paused, contemplating. Then the thin one's face twisted into a scowl. He raised a crossbow, aiming at her chest. Bran snapped his teeth, his rage coming to a boil as he snarled loudly.

"Step aside, sweet heart. I don't want to have to hurt you to kill that thing." His voice was strange; it sounded warped, yet not quivering like the other humans. He was not as drunk.

"You'd hurt a little girl just kill her dog?" She fluctuated her voice, making it seem more weary and delicate. Bran growled even louder as he stumbled to his feet. He positioned himself in front of the girl, despite the fact that his wounds ached as he moved. The girl tensed, moving herself beside him, gripping the fur below his neck. "Easy, boy. It's alright..." Her voice was smooth and gentle, but cut off so abruptly. As if she didn't know what else to say.

_'Bran. My name is Bran.'_ He wished he could say. She paused, before seeming to relax. "It's alright, Bran."

The pack had found him, at last. It was only the older ones, the wolves whom Bran knew well. Tag, Asil, Sage, Samuel, and Charles. Anna must have taken the new wolves on, her Omega being soothing and distracting them from the rage currently flitting through the pack bonds. The thin human shifted nervously; he'd sensed the wolves as well. The young girl gripped his fur, nervous, but not quite frightened of the pack.

That's when Bran heard the creaking of the door to a cat carrier.

The feline beast let loose a wail to the night, shooting past Bran and his girl. The cat, a small, gray tabby with a pink collar and silver bell, dug her claws into the fat man's face, narrowly missing his eyes. Then she leapt off him, launching herself into the girl's arms. Bran took the humans' moment of confusion and panic to send a message to the pack; back off. The wolves crept back into the darkness, eyes vanishing. But Bran could hear someone drop to the ground, the shifting of bones and muscles. Charles was Changing.

"You little bitch."

The redneck pointed his rifle at Bran's girl, causing a ripple of fear to sliver into him, from her. He snarled, pushing himself in front of her. He tensed, ready to launch into an attack of his own. But she laced her fingers tighter, her fear fading as she attempted to stay calm. For him?

It was then that the sharp scent of magic filled the air.

The thin man turned, eyes completely on Bran's girl. His face seemed more shallow, less human than before. His features were wrong; his nose seemed to small, his eyes set too deep. His lip-less mouth twisted into a humorless smile when the girl, feeling and smelling of terror, shrank behind Bran. Fae.

"I think the girl has made her point." Bran didn't hear the same voice anymore. It was gravely and deep, and it was echoed by other pained voices. Bran's ears stung at the sound of it. He tensed even more, the fur on his back standing on end; this was a dangerous Fae. The humans looked at him, suddenly enchanted. "That's her dog. Let's go." He shouldered his weapon, turning. The bleeding pot-belly and the muscled red-neck turned, as if in a trance, and followed the Fae down the road.

Bran's girl collapsed as Charles walked form the woods.

Despite his wounds, Bran positioned himself to soften her fall. The cat yowled, leaping to the ground. Charles was there, scooping the girl up. "Where did the hunters go?"

Bran was busy scanning the girl, unsure how he felt about her being in his son's arms. She looked a bit pained, but that might be because of the fact that her knee jarred the ground when she fell. But other than that, she looked relatively peaceful. Bran felt some relief, before the pain of his wounds attempting to close over the arrows and silver began to burn again.

Charles raised an eyebrow at the girl as several other wolves trotted form the treeline. A car puled down the road. Bran glanced; it was Jodie's car, driven by one of the human residents of Aspen Creek. Ah, now it made sense. This girl was Morgana Evetts, the human step-daughter of the New Orleans Alpha. She was going to be living with one of Bran's wolves, Jodie, the Alpha's sister. To learn about werewolves, he'd said.

Well, she'd learn a lot more now that she was Bran's mate.

The human, a younger man, named Lewis, climbed from the car, eyes wide and alert. "Goodness, trouble already?" He asked Charles. "And she's not even in the town yet."

"Is she supposed to be a trouble maker?" Charles asked, as Lewis opened the back door. Bran nodded, allowing Charles to slide Morgana into the backseat and buckle her in. Lewis shrugged, placing the cat carrier next to her and the rest of her luggage in the back. "Derek said she was a stubborn girl, and would stir the pot occasionally for her own amusement. Is that her cat?"

The small tabby was meowing and purring, slinking in and around Bran's legs. Charles crossed his arms, unsure of what to make of this. "And we thought only Mercy's cat liked werewolves." He mused. Bran bumped the cat's side with his nose once. The cat meowed grumpily, hopping into the car and into Morgana's lap. Charles then began to pull the arrows form Bran's flank. "Is everything good?" Lewis asked, eyes now at the ground without anything else to look at. Bran nodded once, his own eyes on the car where Morgana was locked in. Charles waved the human off as he handed him the arrows. "Put these in my father's house. Take the girl to Jodie's house." At that, Lewis left.

Samuel's tail twitched in Bran's peripheral vision. All of the werewolves present had sensed it. "So." Charles turned to his father. "Do we know why you now have a mating bond with that girl? Or is it another unexplainable event that we have to figure out along the way?" He sounded like he was joking, but, quite frankly, that's how things worked with them. Bran's eyes lingered on the road.

_"I don't know."_

* * *

_Everyone was dancing._

_Spinning, twirling, waltzing together. Everyone was dressed nicely, everyone was barefoot. Barefoot? Yes, no shoes clicked the crystalline floor. Even her. She spun with a faceless man, just another passing story in her life. He clenched her palm too tightly, held her too low for her comfort. She was nervous as she spun with him, eyes up. Please, she whispered. Please show up. Her feet were cold on the icy floor.  
_

_The click of shoes drew her eyes.  
_

_He finally made it. Smiling, his gentle hands replaced the strangers. Heels warmed her toes. He twirled her, smiling with his warm hazel eyes. People whispered; magic rustled her skirts with playful persistence. But he was her whole world now; his family surrounded them, their shoes clicking as they danced. He pulled her close, showing she was his. Because she was his. His mate. Her mate. Hers.  
_

_Hers.  
_

_He spun her, round and round...  
_

* * *

Bran arrived at Jodie's house two days later.

Morgana had apparently not woken since the night of the full moon, her arrival. Jodi, a registered nurse, kept her well and healthy, but Bran still had every intention of seeing her, making sure she was alright.

Morgana was, after all, his new mate.

Jodie opened the door for him before he even got out of his car. Two other wolves were there; her brothers, Allan and Peter. Her human friend, Lewis, was there as well, his eyes perfectly fixated on the floor. Bran came in and took the stairs without a word. Jodie followed, her brothers and human staying behind. "She seemed dehydrated and exhausted when I got to her. Samuel came over and helped set up en emergency IV, in case she needed the fluids..." Jodi stopped at the top of the stairs when Bran opened the door to the room Morgana was in.

She looked peaceful enough. She rested on her back, her face calm, hair still braided. Jodie had managed to put the younger girl in sleepwear, her original clothes neatly folded atop her suitcase. The cat rested on the pillow, hardly even an inch away from the girl's head. She met Bran's eyes, head unmoving; he heard her purrs like the roar of an engine. She tucked herself closer to her human and returned to her sleep, uncaring of the Marrok's presence.

Bran stood next to the bed; Jodie went back downstairs. Every wolf in the pack knew now. The Alphas knew, and their mates knew. Mercedes had called but this morning to not only congratulate Bran, but tease him about his mate's age. "You cradle robbing old man, you. She's not even eighteen!"

Mercedes got away with such teasing because of who she was. But no one else dared to comment, save Charles's Anna. The sweet Omega, who'd taken to daily visits since Leah's death, had smiled when she found out, and told Bran she was excited to meet the girl.

Bran touched a loose strand of hair, brushing it away from her closed eyes. Her skin seemed smooth and flawless this close. Her breathing was steady; her heart was a ever beating drum. Leaning down, he kissed her temple. Then he turned and closed the door behind him; the cat watched with glowing green eyes. When he returned downstairs, Jodie was standing. "When she wakes up, call me." He said simply, and walked briskly out the door.

He didn't even make it to the car when the screaming started.

* * *

_He stopped spinning her, disappearing. She was the only one in shoes now. Her lovely white dress began to stain. Stain red, stain red. Stain red the blood of her friends.  
_

_"Elaine." She whispered. Poor, poor Elaine. Poor Morgause.  
_

_The blood pooled around her. People whispered. Magic laughed. Another victory.  
_

_"Don't let me die, Morgana." Merlin whispered in her ear. "Don't let her kill me, too."  
_

_The blood swallowed her. Magic laughed. Then it choked on it's own misery.  
_

* * *

Morgan woke screaming.

She jolted forward so suddenly she threw herself off the bed and across the room. She slammed her head against the opposite wall, smacking her out of the panic attack she was about to go into. She crumpled, rubbing her head, silent now. "Shit...!"

The door smashed open, right into her side. The force of the thick wood crushed her against the wall. She let out a nasty shriek, falling over as soon as the pressure was released.

A young, handsome man stood frozen; his eyes were glowing.

Morgan laid flat on her back, rubbing her quickly bruising hip. "Ow! OW! Flying monkeys, hop-scotch in Times Square, surfing in the Antarctic, OW!" She curled into an upside down ball, biting her knee. "Jumping off the Chrysler Building!" She spat. "You were squeezing me with the door! Like a pimple!" She didn't look at him. He didn't say anything.

"You were screaming." A woman, Jodie, noted. She too sounded ready to burst with rage like werewolves were noted for.

Morgan took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She got to her feet slowly and gently; she stood a full head shorter than Jodie, a head and half shorter than the strange man. "Scary dream." She said, rubbing her head. "I'm sorry."

The man's eyes stopped glowing, dimming to a lovely, warm, hazel. Morgan felt a familiar warmth in her toes. "Are you hurt?" His voice was smooth. It was like a trickle of cool water over the pain in her head and hip. She shook her head; she felt so much better suddenly.

"Morgana, this is Bran Cornick. The Marrok." Jodie quickly introduced. Morgan tilted her head curiously, taking his outstretched hand. Her fingers tingled as his gripped her palm. "Just call me Morgan." She said, eyes downcast. "It's a pleasure."

"Welcome to Aspen Creek." His honey voice tickled her ears. "I, ah, apologize for crushing you with the door. I thought you'd be on the bed."

Morgan smiled gently. Something about him washed away the pain. It eased the tension, the fear and apprehension in her, for her mother, _of _her mother. Something about him...about Bran Cornick...

She gasped, hands flying to her mouth. "You're that wolf! The injured one from the road!" Her cheeks turned brilliant red. "Oh goodness, I treated the _Marrok_ like he was my dog!"

Bran laughed as Jodie turned and returned to the living room. "It's quite alright. I actually was hoping to thank you for that. I had rather not had any unnecessary deaths on my hands. You saved me time and trouble."

She fidgeted. "I just...I don't like hunters." She was being to nervous, to meek. Bran wouldn't like that.

Huh?

Morgan rubbed her hip again. "About that..." She couldn't help but wonder. Did he notice. "One of the hunters. He wasn't..."

"The Fae?"

Her shoulders sagged. "You noticed too?" She seemed relieved, but her fear returned. "Then I wasn't imagining him." She placed her hands under her elbows. "What would a Fae like _that_ be doing out in the Cabinet? And hunting werewolves with a couple of drunk humans?"

_'Why would one of _them_ be screwing with me so soon?'_

"I'm attempting to look into it, but I'd rather keep the Fae far from Aspen Creek, and the pack, as possible." Bran placed a hand on her arm. The tender gesture caught her off guard. "You just be at ease, Morgan. I'll keep you safe." He pecked her cheek softly.

Just like that, he was gone. Morgan stood alone in the bedroom, eyes wide. Her face was red, her heart was racing, and she suddenly felt empty and alone. _'Almost...'_ She wondered, turning slowly to the bathroom.

* * *

Bran punched the dashboard of his car.

_'Almost.'_


	2. Arthur

Morgana and Carilyn strolled together to their math class.

Aspen Creek had a small, kindergarten through twelfth grade school. There weren't that many students compared to her last school (maybe a hundred or two in comparison to three thousand) but the students were much nicer, and everyone gave her more than smiles.

For some reason, they were all stumbling over themselves to be nice to her. She'd only been there about three weeks now, and she'd already made a 'BFF', an energetic girl named Carilyn Harrison. Carilyn was her age, blond, tanned, and beautiful. Her and her awful older brother Andrew made her feel comfortable at school; something she needed. She was the mate, to Morgan's surprise, to one of the pack's lesser wolves. She said that once she graduated, Bran, the Marrok, would allow her to take the Change. Her mate, Kyle, was a submissive wolf, with a big heart and a desire to be a gushy romantic every time he saw Carilyn.

Morgan was a bit weirded out by the whole situation. Kyle was a World War II solider, so he was more courteous to women than she'd thought possible. Derek, her mother's werewolf husband (and the reason why she was in Aspen Creek) was from the Civil War, but he'd adapted quickly to modern male attitudes. She just wasn't used to male kindness.

Which was why Bran confused her so much. He was the Marrok; single most dominant (and dangerous) wolf in possibly the whole world, and yet he visited her for _tea_ every other day. He'd tell her about Alphas, and how to control a pack, and about out of the way things that Jodie wouldn't cover in their lessons (or that she wouldn't know of).

He scared her. There was no denying it. But he made her feel comfortable. _'There's a classic Morgana for you.'_

"You know, everyone outside is so scared of the Fae and werewolves. I understand the Fae and all, but there's no reason to be scared of Kyle. Right?" Carilyn asked, pulling Morgan from her musings. She played with her braid as they entered the classroom. "Well, the thing is, there are plenty of reason to be scared of werewolves. They're _predators._ And_ supernatural_ predators at that. I mean..." She sat at her desk, next to Carilyn. "...people don't even know that much about them. At all. And humans fear the unknown."

"But don't they realize the things they don't know are for their own safety?" Carilyn asked.

"Sweetie, people, especially in America, are the dumbest creatures on Earth. They think they know everything, they need to know everything. Even werewolves are like that. I mean, my mom's step-dad made me come out here to 'learn.'" She rolled her eyes. "Humans are fearful creatures."

That was something that Bran had told her. _'Wow, quoting him already. He's made a bigger impact on my life than Shamu.'_

Carilyn smiled at her. "So, miss Morgan. Any man in your life?" Changing the subject was a specialty for the girl. Morgan thought it was absolutely annoying, yet adorable.

Morgan scowled. "No, thank you. I don't need a man to be happy. I don't _want_ a man. Men suck. No offense, Mister Dervish!" She called. The wolf teacher waved her comment off.

Carilyn giggled. "I wonder what Bran would say is he heard you say that."

Morgan frowned; Mister Dervish rose from his chair. The other students piled in, all ten of them. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you're, like, his m-"

"Miss Harrison!"

Morgan and Carilyn snapped to attention. Mister D. smiled. "Class has begun."

Morgan eyed Carilyn. _'Later.'_ She mouthed, though she knew Mister Dervish was well aware that she did.

* * *

At lunch, Morgan was caught off guard.

Bran was at the front office, something she passed from math to lunch. He was flanked by two taller men, one of them obviously Native American, with a lovely, tall woman next to him. Students whispered, pointing. A few stared at her.

"Goodness, who're they?" Morgan asked Carilyn, ignoring the fact that her friend's older brother now joined them. Carilyn shifted. "That's Charles and Samuel. They're the Marrok's sons."

Morgan's heart stopped for a minute. "Sons? He has sons?" Why was she so...bothered by this? "How...How old is he?"

"No one knows specifically." Carilyn muttered, shifting. "All we know is that he, and his son Samuel, the taller one, _old._ Charles is over two-hundred I hear. He's the one with the lady."

Morgan looked to the Native American one. He glanced back at the student body, but did not spot her, from what she could tell. But all the passing students all cringed, attempting to avoid his gaze. The woman held his hand, smiling back at the students. Morgan could feel the lift in the air, the soothing the frightened students.

"That lovely being is Anna." Andrew said, purring her name. Morgan snorted. "Someone's got a werewolf crush."

"And what about you?" Andrew peered over her shoulder. "You and the Marrok seem pretty close."

Morgan flushed. Carilyn shot her brother a venomous look. "He's right there, Andrew." She snapped, gesturing to the office. "Shut up."

Andrew held up his left hand defensively. His right dug into his shoulder bag. "Now now, little sis. I'm just teasing. Say, Morgan, do you like snakes?"

He thrust a long, striped, hissing snake in her face, laughing. Morgan screamed at the top of her lungs, her things dropped, forgotten. She threw herself at the opposite end of the hall, against the lockers. Carilyn shrieked, shrinking away behind a passing student. Andrew walked towards Morgan, the cruelness Carilyn spoke of finally to light. "Andrew, get that away from me!" She wailed, cowering behind her arms. "Go away! Get it away! _I'll knock your teeth down your throat!"_

A hand suddenly restricted Andrew's.

"That's not nice."

Morgan could have melted right then and there with relief. Bran's older son, Samuel, smiled at Andrew. The shorter boy dropped his gaze. "I-I-I..."

"Why don't you go put this back where you found it?" He suggested, though everyone present knew damn well that it wasn't one. Andrew near ran off, not taking a single glance back.

Charles handed Morgan her things. Her hands were still shaking as she took them back. "Thank you." She said softly, eyes downcast. The Native looking man said nothing. Anna, the woman, appeared behind him, reaching over and touching Morgan's arm. "Are you alright?" She asked, smiling. Morgan nodded. Bran appeared at her side. _'Ninja werewolves.'_ He took her elbow, though something told Morgan it was more to assure himself than her. "Yes, thank you. I just...I just have issues with snakes being shoved in my face."

"Yes, we can see that."

She smiled. Carilyn edged nervously into her view. "Morgan, we need to go to lunch." She said, rubbing her arms. Morgan nodded, slipping from Bran's grip. "I'll, ah, see you around?" She smiled at him. For a moment, his eyes met hers, the warm hazel reflected in the bright green. Then she dropped hers, and he sighed. "Yes. I will be seeing you soon, Morgan."

At that, she hurried away with Carilyn. Samuel raised an eyebrow. "Well, wasn't that something." He mused. "You're going to tell her soon, right, Da?"

Bran shot his son a look. "Yes, I will. Soon."

Morgan barely heard the words, but heard them nonetheless. They made her shiver. What did Bran need to tell her?

She had completely forgotten Carilyn's promise of a later secret.

* * *

When Morgan walked into the house, Jodie called her.

_"There's been a major accident at near the hospital. I'll be staying here for a few days, or at least until all of the victims are in the all clear. There's plenty of food in the pantry, some money in the jar on top of the china cabinet, and there's a list by the wall phone with anyone you could call if there's an emergency."_

"Alright. Is there anything else I need to know?"

_"Make sure you tell Bran you'll be alone for a few days. I need to go; don't piss anyone off."_ And with that, Jodie hung up. Morgan placed her phone back in her pocket, sighing. She leant with her back on the door, eyes closed. Piss anyone off...

Eventually, she made herself dinner, cleaned the kitchen, and settled down for the night in her pajamas. She sat on the couch, watching _King Kong._ She was surprised Jodie had it, and had filled a big bowl with popcorn and pulled out three rolls of toilet paper. A blanket and Maddy, her adorable gray tabby, covered her lap.

Ann was being tied up to be sacrificed to Kong when the knocking at the door made her sigh. She paused the movie, shooed away the kitty, and hurried towards the door.

When she opened it, the wood smashed against her, slamming her on the ground. Before she could even take in a breath, a large, heavy boot landed on her chest, crushing all the remaining air from her. Maddy's belled collar rang in her ears as the cat leapt over her head and bolted outside, narrowly missing a kick herself. She barely saw the cat run from the patio and down the road, bell still ringing.

"Long time no see, sweet heart."

Black dots swam in her vision; she'd hit her head on the ground as well as having it get bashed with the door. But even with a possible concussion, she could recognize the sneering, scarred face of her ex-boyfriend. "Aaron." She coughed, earning a squish from the boot.

"You left home pretty quick. Almost like you were running!" He ground his heel into her ribs, leaning on his knee. "But you wouldn't run from me; I love you. Don't you love me?"

She coughed again, unable to fill the need for oxygen. But Aaron scooped her off the ground and slammed the door shut, throwing her haphazardly on the couch. She barely missed the bowl of popcorn. Aaron straddled her, hands landing roughly on her shoulders. He pressed down as hard as he could, pulling on the skin. "You look as beautiful as ever, Morgie." He cooed, almost, _almost_ affectionate. But the boy had anti-social-personality disorder; there was not even a sliver of affection in his bones. His breath danced across her face, hot with beer and cigarettes, as he leaned closer. "I've missed you, Morgie. When you said you were breaking up with me, I was so confused."

He snatched up her left hand.

"When you left your ring at my house, I was so upset that you'd forgotten it!" He slipped the cold ring on her finger, before gripping her knuckles. She squirmed; big mistake. A sharp _crack,_ and Morgana was screaming as loud as she could. Aaron's fist cracked across her jaw, effectively silencing her. He released her now broken knuckles, smiling. "You're still a virgin, I hope?" His hand trailed down her chest. "Remember, I'm the only one who gets to pop that cherry." His mouth crushed hers, tongue sliding down her throat. Her jaw rippled with pain, throbbing in her cheeks. His awful hands roamed; Morgan was brought back to the time they dated. He was kind at first, but after a few months he became..._this._ When she finally broke up with him, her mother was terrified he'd come after Morgan or her family; or both.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as his hands toyed with her pants.

When he finally released her mouth, his hands gripped her underwear; she spat in his eye. In a moment of rage, he snatched up the popcorn bowl and broke on the side of her head; blood splattered everything. Sobs broke through, leaving her body in wracked spasms.

_'As usual, as soon as I'm alone, the Universe fucks me up.'_

"Oh, baby..." Aaron took off his jacket, pressing it against the head wound. The problem with head wounds? They bleed excessively. "You keep getting hurt, baby!" He kissed her tears. "You need to behave, so you don't hurt yourself any more." His kisses trailed down her broken and bruising jaw, tearing the collar of her shirt to lower the kisses even more.

She was sure she'd die tonight. Unless someone's heard her screaming, or noticed Maddy running loose and brought her here instead of eating her, she would die. She didn't want to die like this. She wanted to see her mother. She wanted to treat her baby sister and her baby brother again. She wanted to meet King Arthur when he woke up. She wanted to fully know Bran; she wanted Bran. Badly.

Morgan felt something in her burn again. A familiar, cooling sensation spread throughout her whole body, like she was slowly sinking under the surface of a chilly lake. Her voice sputtered through the screams and cries.

_"Bran..."_

* * *

Morgan's cat attacked Bran's leg.

"Cat." He mused, as his sons Samuel and Charles, and Charles's Ana, watched with equal amusement from their seats in his study. "I will eat you. I don't care if you're Morgana's pet."

The cat hissed and spat, whole body puffed like she'd been thrown in a dryer. She jumped again, but towards the door to Bran's home; how she got inside he'd never know. She circled back, hissing again, before turning to the door.

There werewolves blinked at her; Bran frowned, standing.

The cat continued to pitch a fit, attempting to draw Bran towards the door.

When the chilling sensation he'd felt the first time he met Morgan slapped into him, the mating bond they shared suddenly was stronger and fuller than before. The terror and pain his Morgana was feeling poured into him. Suddenly, he knew why the cat was going nuts.

"Morgana!"

* * *

Aaron gripped her hair, jerking her up. "I think we'll have our wedding night early, love." He whispered, spreading the couch cushions and blanket on the floor. He threw her on the not as soft spot, tearing her shirt in the process. She let out a strangled cry as he reached for his own pants; his fist cracked against her temple, almost hitting her eye. He then grabbed her broken jaw, forcing her to look at him. "You're so beautiful, Morgie." He whispered, kissing her lightly. Then he pulled her to her knees before him. "Now be good."

Time seemed to slow as rage filled her. She didn't even hesitate to let it run it's course through her body, fueling her with the urge to kill, the drive to push past the pain. While everything else, Aaron's hands, the ticking of the clock, the wind pushing the trees, moved slowly, she snatched up a nearby bowl shard, and stabbed his leg. She prayed she hit something major.

He roared with pain, crumpling to the ground. She threw herself from the cushions, landing with her legs in a bed of broken porcelain. She began crawling towards the kitchen, over the shards and pieces of popcorn and bowl. Her blood was everywhere; on the floor, on the couch, in her eyes, in her mouth. The coppery taste filled her mouth as she finally hit the cool tiles of the kitchen, palms on the ground. She hauled herself-

"You. _Bitch!"_

Something hard and big hit her back; wood splintered, ribs cracked, and flesh was stabbed. She screamed. Aaron grabbed the leg of the chair that stuck out from her side, and twisted it deeper into her. "I'll cut off your pretty tattoos!" He laughed, maniacal amusement in his eyes. "The lovely snakes and pretty raven will come off first!"

_'Tattoos?'_

The language rolled off her tongue before she could even think about what was happening. The flesh of her back burned. Hisses filled the air, replacing her screams with Aaron's.

Those 'lovely snakes' were wrapped around his entire body, locking in him in a single, kneeling position. The 'pretty raven' landed on his shoulder, beak digging into his eye sockets. Blood was everywhere, but this time, it wasn't Morgan's blood. She pushed herself up, though it was taxing, and stumbled away.

She reached the wall phone as Charles Cornick, in his wolf, broke down the door.

The Raven and the Snake vanished, her back burning again. Aaron collapsed, still screaming. Blood continuously filled the empty space left behind by his eyes. Charles froze, watching Morgan hang onto the wall phone for dear life. Bran burst in, making her knees loosen and her face relax into a relieved smile. She collapsed right as he caught her, blood soaking his clothes.

* * *

**The World**

* * *

Eyes fluttered open, fists opened, and hearts soared. Arguments stop in one breath. Forks and spoons fell from numb hands, clattering against plates. Breathless lovers pause their embrace. Old, powerful words are stopped momentarily, replaced with the same word uttered everywhere.

"Arthur."

* * *

**...**

* * *

_"Arthur."_

Morgan woke with a jolt, gasping like a fish out of water. Hands touched her shoulders; terrified that they were Aaron's, she recoiled, eyes squeezed shut. But the hands gently gripped her shoulders, before sliding up her neck and cupping her cheeks. "Morgana."

The voice was like a balm to her burns. It soothed her, calming her. She opened her eyes, slowly, fat tears swelling down her cheeks. Bran's face sported no smile, but it wasn't hopeless either. He quickly wiped away her tears, before it was Samuel in her view, flashing a light in her eyes, touching the side of her head, her eye, her jaw.

"Can you tell me who you are?" Samuel asked.

She sighed, feeling the cast that supported her hand. "The idiot who let the antisocial-psychopath into the house again..." She grumbled. "Morgana Roswell Evetts."

"Mm. Can you tell me where you are?" Neither Samuel nor Bran seemed amused by her response.

"Somewhere in Aspen Creek, I suppose. In Montana." She eyed the white ceiling. "Where's Maddy?"

The cat meowed, jumping onto the bed and next to Morgan's head. She purred, touching her nose to Morgan's cheek. Morgan sighed. "Hello, sweet heart."

"Morgana." She almost cringed at her proper name. "Who was he?" Bran asked, elbows propped on his knees. The look in his eyes was fierce, protective, and more than just angry. She touched Maddy's head. "My ex-boyfriend, Aaron Peterson. I dated him for a year, give or take, until I found out he'd been diagnosed with some serious mental disorders, including antisocial-personality disorder." She waved her cased hand, eying the ring finger. "He'd given me a promise ring about two months before we broke up. I had yet to actually accept it."

Bran said nothing; Samuel was just as silent. Only Maddy's purring filled the air, making Morgan shift uncomfortably. "Hey, no one called my mom, or anything, right?"

Bran raised a brow. "Your mother was informed, yes. Someone else called you just before you woke, as well. A hysterical young lady who wouldn't stop shrieking about someone named Arthur."

"...what did she say about him? Arthur?"

"She kept saying he finally woke up."

Morgan started to sit up; Bran put a hand on her arm. "No."

She sighed, relaxing into her pillow. "Then may I have my phone?"

Bran gave her the small, green device without a word. She taped in a number and pressed it to her ear; the shrieking began again almost immediately.

_"What the hell are you doing?! Why aren't you here?!"_

"I'm sorry, there was a problem. Is...is he doing alright?"

_"Well, the Awakening was difficult for him. He's really confused right now, especially with all of the Knights pestering him. Merlin and Gwenevere, to everyone's surprise, are doing the best they can to keep him calm, but right now he's learning about Gwen's affair with Lancelot, so he's really trying to keep his distance from her. He...he keeps asking about Lady Igraine. And you."_

Morgan took a moment, weighing her words. Bran kept a straight face, absently tilting his chair on one leg. These were named from Arthurian legend. Merlin, the sorcerer who guided King Arthur; Gwenevere, the Queen of Camelot and Arthur's wife, who had a romantic affair with Lancelot, a knight of the Round Table. Lady Igraine was the mother of King Arthur. And Morgana le Fey.

"Tell him I'm fine. That I am currently working on helping Lady Igraine. Elaine...don't say anything about Aspen Creek."

_"What? But he knows about the whole werewolf thing! He just learned of The Marrok and his pack..."_

Bran's whole body and chair froze.

_"...and he knows about your mating bond with the Marrok!"_

Bran's chair corrected itself. Morgan forcibly sat up, ignoring the pain in her head. "What the hell are you talking about, Elaine?"

_"Your mating bond? With the Marrok werewolf? Come on, we're not stupid. You couldn't keep something this major from us for long."_

"Elaine, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about. Mating bond? That's..."

When Morgan met Bran's eyes, her words crumpled away. There was a look in his eye that made her left hand throb with her heartbeat. The skin of her back burned as the color drained from her face. "What is she talking about?" She asked softly, voice breaking. "Bran?"

Bran said nothing, at first. Instead he eyed her warily, as if gauging her reaction. Then he told her. "A mating bond formed when we first met. I do not know how. But it is there; weak, at first. Then, this recent event suddenly made it stronger."

Morgan sucked in a shaking breath, curling over her knees. "Elaine, I'll have to call you back." She whispered, the salty scent of tears filling Bran's senses. There was a pause from the other line.

_"Call me by tomorrow night. There's more we need to discuss. Just...take care of yourself, Morgana."_

The dial tone followed the voice. Morgan dropped her phone, cupping a hand over her mouth. The skin on her back really burned now, stinging her flesh in familiar forms and patterns. But she ignored it, mind preoccupied. "I thought there was some sort of ceremony to be done. I thought the two had to..."

"As I said." Bran spoke softly, as if not to startle her. "I do not understand this myself. But it is a mating bond. I know the magic well enough. It has opened an empathy link, I guess you would call it. What you feel, I feel. And what I feel, or what emotions I cannot contain, you feel."

"Why didn't I notice?" Her voice was barely above a whisper now. But Bran heard her, leaning on his knees. "Maybe you did, and passed it off as mood swings. I have been trying my best to keep control, as to not overwhelm you or frighten you. Only a few have slipped through; no doubt you could feel my rage and anger earlier."

She didn't say anything for a while. She just sat there, head on her knees, left hand lying still in its cast. He didn't move, didn't speak. Rather, he placed a small card on the sheets - his number - and left, giving her some privacy. He would allow her time.


	3. Not fair

"...gold dolphins, like they're swimming, and the cutest little pearl at the center!"

Carilyn's words filled the empty space between Morgan's ears. The lovely blond-haired beauty was full of energy and life; while the bandaged and stitched brown-haired girl was silent and still. The news of the Mating Bond, even two days later, still took its toll on her. She felt invaded, almost violated of her personal privacy. Now that she knew it was there, she could feel that thin, pulsing connection between Bran and herself. She could feel what little emotion he did not contain; frustration, compassion, weariness...

Bran had been giving her space since then. He wasn't present when Morgan was released from the hospital. He hadn't come over since then, the only form of contact between the two a few simple words in a single thought. _"Take all the time you need."_ Jodie had explained Bran's telepathic abilities, the limitations of those abilities, and that their bond was the reason he had access to her mind. Another reason for Morgan to feel intruded upon.

"Are you even _listening_ to me?" Carilyn huffed, crossing her arms. Morgan looked up from her sandwich, blinking. "Sorry." She said softly; her jaw had not been completely broken, but only fractured. But moving it too much still hurt, with the pain pills she'd been given. "I've just got a lot on my mind."

The lunch hall was quieter than usual, many of the students staring at Morgan. She was the Marrok's mate; they all knew it, she knew they all knew it. For a sixteen-going-on-seventeen girl to be proclaimed the second most dominant creature within the territory, perhaps...

Carilyn's hand very lightly brushed Morgan's uninjured one. "How about we have a girl's night? You and me, slumber party."

Morgan thought about it for a minute. Jodie _might_ let her go. And it would be a chance to get away from the whole...werewolf thing. Carilyn's parents were both human, and, although a complete jerk, her brother was too. Aspen Creek was a small community, but any small sanctuary would do. "I'll have to ask Jodie first." She muttered. "But it would be...nice."

Carilyn smiled at her, rubbing her hands together. "Excellent! You can stay the weekend! It'll be so much fun!"

* * *

"No."

Morgan blinked. Jodie stood, crossed armed, feet apart, but her eyes were on the ground. Morgan shifted uncomfortably; she'd spent all these years either eye to eye or staring at the ground herself. Being the one whose eyes they dropped for was...new.

"You were attacked not even a week ago. You expect me to let you out of this house?" Jodie continued, turning back to the food over the kitchen stove.

Morgan rubbed her arm. "The house was where I was attacked..." She muttered, before sighing. She promised her mother she would behave. She said she would listen to Jodie. "Alright." She turned and walked up the stairs, ignoring the fact that Jodie's eyes were following her the entire walk up.

When she reached her room, Maddy jumped on the bed and purred. She pulled out her phone and found Carilyn's number. Giving the other girl a quick heads up that the sleep over was a no go, Morgan laid down, stroking Maddy's back. She stared at the ceiling, the only sounds the purring from Maddy and the slight hiss of the kitchen stove downstairs.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax completely. Maddy's purring lulled her into a sense of peace, a moment of utter ease. She found herself in a field of golden wheat, the sun shining brilliantly overhead. Wind gently rolled over her, tousling her hair. Then she saw the. Three people, standing several yards away, hand in hand. Two of them, girls, smiled happily at her, faces displaying their desire to reach out and greet her. The man was older than them, wearing a neutral expression. He nodded once to her; her body burned. The girls raised their arms, allowing a fourth, unseen figure to step out of their small circle.

The boy was maybe ten or eleven, with big, blue eyes and soft blond hair. He stared at her in wonder, eyes wide, hands fidgeting with his shirt sleeves. Then he spoke.

_"Morgana?"_

Suddenly she was in her room again, lying on the bed. Something sour was on her tongue. A bitter frustration. At her. Why was she so frustrated with herself? What had she done wrong now that her conscious didn't see? It took her a moment to realize _she_ wasn't frustrated with herself. Bran's emotions slipped into her, fueling her with a petty yet serious anger. He was frustrated with her; she still hadn't accepted him. She didn't know how, was the problem.

Jodie knocked on the door, drawing Morgan from her musings. Dully noting she wore today's clothes still, she searched the bed for her precious cat. Maddy sat on the ground now, green eyes boring into her. Morgan scoffed at the feline, at some unsaid words, before standing and opening the door.

Jodie was wearing her night-clothes. "You're awake." She noted, as if it was a surprise. Morgan rubbed her eyes. "Yeah. I wasn't feeling well. What time is it?"

"It's ten. At night. I'm off to bed." Jodie paused. "I tried waking you for dinner. But you didn't budge. Just make sure you eat some breakfast tomorrow, alright?" Morgan nodded in response, undoing her braid. Jodie left, closing herself in her bedroom. Morgan closed her door as well, pressing her back against it. Her chest felt heavy; her heart weighed with emotions that did not belong to her.

_I can only give you so much time._

She knew that voice wasn't just one in her head.

* * *

When Morgan arrived at school the next day, she was disappointed to learn that Carilyn had felt ill and stayed home. She would have to tough out today on her own.

First and second period were agonizing. Whispers, stares, but never any actual conversation or eye contact. It was fourth period where she cracked, staring down a chuckling boy until his chin was practically embedded in his chest. Her eyes then drifted over every other students, making them all dropped their faces into their books. Mister Dervish sighed, but continued with the lesson as if nothing had happened, as if the Marrok's power had not just rained over his students.

Amusement filled her, but it was not her own. That only fueled her anger, making her clench her fists and scowled bitterly. It felt strange and annoying, having foreign emotions inside her. Was this what Carilyn and Kyle had? Was she sick because he was? Or did he perhaps feel _her_ illness?

So many questions, but she couldn't bear to get the answers.

When class let out, Morgan dragged her feet to lunch. She was more than just tempted to leave and head back to the house for the day; she was absolutely done with this place. Weren't all these students being nice and crowing for her attention not even a few days ago? Why did her knowing about her mating bond make such a difference? Who the hell are they to act like this all of sudden?

Not only the students, but the werewolf teachers were getting on her nerves today. They all watched her with keen eyes, observing, yet leaving their posture to remind her of her newly discovered standing in the pack. Morgan had a more than sneaking suspicion that Bran had told the wolves to watch her, to make sure she didn't hurt herself or something ridiculous like that.

_'Sneaky...stupid...bastard...god damnit...'_

Fed up, Morgan dumped her lunch before she even sat down, marched towards the gates, and stormed from the school. No one stopped her, but they all watched her go. She kept her back to them, not even turning to glare. She kept her march all the way to Jodie's house, where she dropped her bag and slammed the door shut. A minute passed before she leaned against the wooden frame, sliding to the ground and tucking her head between her knees. It stung her side where her stitches were, but she ignored it.

_'This is just a dream. All of this. I'm just having weird dreams because Arthur woke up. No biggie. Mommy isn't dating a werewolf-asshole. I'm not in wolf-central. I'm not the mate to the Marrok. I'm not banged up because Aaron beat me up. A dream, a dream...'_

"A dream, a dream, just a dream..." She told herself, squeezing her eyes shut. Someone sat next to her. She knew who it was; if the minty musk wasn't obvious, it was the way her body seemed to vibrate at his proximity. She kept her head locked in place nonetheless, eyes squeezed shut. Bran didn't say anything, didn't touch her, didn't move. He just sat there, watching her. Watching her mutter to herself, like some sort of crazed lunatic.

Despite her silent praying, Morgan knew that this was no dream. She knew that her left hand was broken because Aaron had broken her knuckles. She knew she had fractures in her jaw because Aaron's fists were hard and heavy. She knew she had cuts and bruises because of the popcorn bowl Aaron had shattered. She knew she had stitches because Aaron had stabbed her. She knew she didn't belong to herself anymore.

"It's not fair." She muttered, not moving. He raised a brow, but she continued. "It's not fair in the slightest. I mean, I have enough problems without this. I have a dad who walked out on my pregnant mother. My mom's ex-husband is brainwashing my baby sister and baby brother into thinking I'm some sort of...of evil _whore._ And my latest step-dad, _Derek_, is trying to get me killed because I'm keeping my mother from keeping the Change. You already saw what Aaron was." She didn't even glance at him. "I hate men. I tolerate them. And suddenly I'm the '_mate'_ to the most dominate werewolf, of all things, in North America."

Bran watched her curiously. Her body language read one thing; defeat. She traced invisible lines on her cast. "I never imagined my life like this. I thought maybe I could be normal. But..." She sighed, curling tighter. "I...I suppose I should give it a go." She said softly. "Being your...your mate..."

Bran still said nothing. Instead, he took her uninjured hand, pulling it towards him so he may observe it. "I will not force you to do anything. You can do and feel as you wish; all I ask is that you obey me."

Straight and to the point; he was not dancing around any lines. He was the Marrok, the Alpha of all Alphas. Obedience was vital to pack survival. If an Alpha was not obeyed, then chaos would take over; wolves would dying all the time, and not just due to madness or failing the Change. Being an Alpha's mate makes you second in the pack's order; you are not equals. She would be Second only to Bran; every wolf in his territory, all of North America, would have to listen to her if she told them something. Maybe.

There's an ego boost for you.

"Do we have to do anything? Like that ceremony?" She asked, eyes on his hand. He hesitated, though only to look at the small scar at the base of her thumb. "Yes. The next full moon. I suppose you could say it's a bit like a wedding, but at the same time, it's different."

"Wedding?" She couldn't the fear that had risen at the word. "Mating bonds are...more permanent than marriages are, aren't they?"

"Yes." He let her stand and take a few steps towards the couch, watching as she buried her face in her hands. She was obviously frightened by all of this. He could smell it, could feel it through the bond. It was the same fear she'd had when she had learned of the mating bond. She stood still, heart thumping quickly in her chest. Her breathing was a bit faster than usual, her knees shaking.

Bran stood next to her in one graceful move. "I do not know why this has happened. Were it up to me, could I change this without some unknown consequence, I would." He said quietly. "You are very brave for doing this. Do not think of it for just me; this is for the good of the pack." He touched her arm. "I need to mating bond to keep control. You will be keeping the whole pack, and, indirectly, all of my kind, safe from myself."

He wouldn't normally tell anyone this, other than his sons. But he'd already checked on the girl's background; she was clean. She posed no threat to Bran's wolves, and he was right. She _was_ saving them. Since Leah's death, Bran had trouble keeping a lid on the Beast. The cage he built relied on a mating bond to stay tight. Even with Anna to help soothe him, he still had to be very careful about his temper. Because, even if he did not like the woman, the mating bond he shared with Leah had been just that; a bond. When she died, he felt her pain, and he and his wolf grieved. Then Morgan made eye contact with him that first night, and his fuse was no longer short. The meager mating bond had been barely enough to revise the Beast's cage, to reestablish the control he'd had when Leah lived. When it strengthened, he was back in complete control again, just like before.

He had to make sure it stayed that way.

"I will arrange everything, and make sure you are properly taken care of before the ceremony." Carefully, delicately, he kissed her temple. "Thank you."

Then he left, quietly closing the door. A few moments passed before Morgan allowed herself to begin to cry. She curled up on the couch, Maddy sitting on the arm rest, sobbing silently into a cushion. The cat watched with slit eyes; then she mewed, nudging the girl's hand. Morgan glanced at her cat; the feline mewed again, slinking down to the couch cushions. She rested a paw on Morgan's pocket, purring. Morgan sniffed, pulling out her cell phone.

The cat's eyes glistened.

Morgan hesitated, before dialing the safest number she knew.

_"Morgana? About time!"_

Morgan smiled softly, closing her eyes. "Hello, Elaine." She felt relieved already. "Are you still with Arthur?"

_"Yeah. We're about to have lunch."_ A pause, with chatter in the background. _"He wants to talk to you."_

"Please." Morgana clutched the phone tightly as Maddy crawled into her lap and fell asleep. She waited patiently, lips pursed with anticipation. While the dismay of having her life completely flipped around by the next full moon, nothing could damper the excitement of hearing Arthur's voice for the first time.

_"Morgana?"_

She almost choked on a sob. "Hello." She managed, wiping her tears away with her cast. "You must be King Arthur." He didn't sound a day over ten; so sweet and innocent.

_"You're Morgana le Fey, right? One of my older sisters, like Elaine and Morgause."_

"Yes, that's me. How much do you know so far?"

_"Merlin has been helping me date everything and figure out what's from the Origin and what is memory. He's been calling everyone in to meet me..."_

"Of course. We all have to meet you. You're the king!"

_"...then won't you?"_

Morgan's shoulders slumped. "Every piece of me wants to duck out and come meet you face to face right away. But it's...it's complicated. Being bound to a werewolf, the Marrok of all people, ties me to my current location for a while. I don't know when I'll be able to come and see you; I'm so sorry."

_"...that's okay."_ He sounded so sad, so lonely, it made Morgan tear up again. _"Promise you'll keep calling until then?"_

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

_"...Guenevere and Lancelot say you're jealous because Morgana wasn't named Queen."_

Morgan silently cursed the two mentioned. Guenevere was a year younger than her sixteen years, and a complete and total, well, _bitch._ She was nothing like Guenevere used to be; kind, gentle, all caring. No, this Guenevere was self-centered and all too keen on reminding everyone of her rank. The Queen, at first the sole monarch of them. She, as usual, kept up her reputation as a back stabber and was sleeping with a man ten years older than Morgan; Lancelot. He and Guenevere both despised Morgan, and not just because Morgana le Fey had outed their affair to King Arthur in the Origin.

"Don't you listen to a word they say, Arthur." She said softly. "For now, just listen to Merlin. He'll tell which Knights you can trust and which ones to keep away. I would never be jealous of you; I have no reason. Morgana plays her own vital role in Camelot's Cycle. Being Queen would only add too much responsibility. That's why someone as smart and brave as you surely must be is King." She smiled, wishing she could see him. "I love you to my core, and I will always be loyal to you."

_"I love you too."_ He whispered; she heard a smile in his voice. _"Elaine says we have to go."_

"Alright. Would you tell everyone I said hello, please?"

_"OK. I'll...I'll see you later?"_

"You know it. Bye-bye, Arthur."

The line ended, reluctantly on her part. She yearned to walk out the door and go see him now. Not only because he was Arthur, but because she was scared. She was afraid of him. He was, after all, an old, old werewolf. He was dangerous, powerful, and intimidating; when he wanted to. What really scared her was how well he _hid_ all that. He looked, and acted, for all the world a college freshman. Like he was a computer geek, or someone on an art major. She didn't like people who could hide their nature so easily. Usually, they're like that until they rip out your heart. Or throat.

But something about Aspen Creek, about Bran, made her want to stay. Maybe it was just the Mating Bond. Maybe it was the magic of the pack drawing her in. Maybe she found Bran interesting.

Sighing, Morgan settled into the couch and flicked on the television. She ditched school; no point in going back. All she could od now was wait for Jodie to get home so she could ask about what the bleeding hell she'd have to wear and do at this Ceremony.

* * *

Jodie was miffed when she learned that Morgan skipped school, but before she could even ask, Jodie began to explain the process of a Mating Ceremony. Morgan was only a bit surprised. It was obvious Bran told Jodie. It was just a small shock that Jodie jumped into so quickly.

"It your flesh and blood that will concrete the connection." Jodie explained. "After that, the only thing that can break the bond is if Bran himself breaks it, or if one of you die."

Morgan nodded. She had heard once that if a third-party wolf was dominant enough, they could break the bond. But Bran was...Bran. It was more than likely that there is no wolf out there more dominant than he.

"It'll be very private. If anything, aside form the two of you, his sons may be there, though most likely not. Afterwards, you go home with him."

Morgan's cheeks turned red. She knew what happened after that. She rubbed her cast, reveling the thought that she was going to loose her virginity to a werewolf. To Bran. The blush turned into a full out fever.

_'Don't think about it now!'_

"How long until the full moon, anyways?" She asked softly, fidgeting. Jodie paused, as if calculating. "Two weeks, at the most. I still have to call Derek and let him know you'll be living with the Marrok from-"

"No!" Morgan leapt from the couch. "No, let me. I'll go call them now."

Jodie watched her silently. Morgan dreaded the thought of Derek finding out. If he heard before she could tell her mother, he'd use it against her, use the information to convince her mother to Change. She had to tell her mother before anyone else, first. Besides, Derek sent her to Jodie to die. She may live here, but she was allowed to not trust the woman.

Morgan slipped outside, walking carefully off the porch as she drew her phone. Maddy followed as she walked a bit down the road, hopefully out of range of Jodie's wolf ears. She took a deep breath, before punching in her mother's number.

_"Hello? Morgan? How are you, honey?"_

It was almost as relieving as hearing Arthur's voice. She smiled, shoulders sagging from the tension she had built up. "I'm alright. Had a visit from Aaron."

_"What?!"_ Her mother shrieked. _"When?!"_

"A few days ago. Banged me up pretty bad. But that's not why I called."

_"Not why you called...what happened?"_

Morgan pursed her lips. "You...you know how Derek says you're his mate?"

Her mother said nothing at first. _"Yes."_

"So you know how werewolves can find their mates out of no where, basically at random?"

_"Oh no."_

Morgan walked further, noting how far she'd gotten from the house. "Oh yes. He's, um...he's the Marrok, and all-"

_"Bran Cornick?! How on earth did you manage this?!"_

She scowled. "Mom, I didn't do this on purpose. It just...happened. When we first looked at each other. The ceremony is on the full moon."

_"What am I going to tell Derek?"_

"Nothing." Morgan took a breath. "I need time. Especially since Arthur's Awakening is coinciding with this. Can you...I don't know, just wait until _after_ the full moon to tell him?" She threw the information to the wind, hoping it stuck.

She heard the rustle of papers. _"Did he really wake up?"_

Hook, line, sinker. "Yes. He's younger than last time; around Margi's age." Margi was her ten year old sister. "Keeps asking for me and Lady Igraine."

Children's voices softly in the background; her siblings. _"I'll wait, honey. Two weeks, right? I can keep him distracted long enough."  
_

Morgan loved her mother. She really did. The woman was so sweet, so compassionate. But she was so gullible, at the same time. She believed wholeheartedly that she was Derek's mate. She didn't have a whiff of a suspicion about the sudden want to keep Morgan alive by sending her to Aspen Creek. She didn't think Derek was cruel to his lesser wolves. She couldn't see his faults.

Morgan would use that to her advantage as long as possible.

"Thank you so much, Mommy. I just don't want to him to freak out and come and do something stupid, like challenge the Marrok for his daughter." Morgan rolled her eyes. That was _really_ pushing it, but her mother ate it up.

_"It isn't a problem at all, sweet heart. I have to go now; you be careful. I love you."_

"I love you too."

Morgan sighed, stopping. She'd walked a considerable distance in a small amount of time. Maddy still walked with her, bell ringing softly with her gait. Her mother would cover her for as long as she could. Truth be told, having Arthur's Awakening and this mating Bond ordeal coincide _was_ stressful. It was just a matter of keeping Derek off her back until she was completely safe, as Bran's mate...

_'Wow that sounds weird.'_

"Going for a stroll?"

She blinked. Samuel Cornick, the doctor-son of Bran, smiled down at her form a porch of a nice house. How far had she walked? She hadn't been outside _that_ long. Had she?

"Just making a phone call. You?" She felt a bit uncomfortable with the fact that Bran had two sons who were both _way_ older than her. But she might as well start being nice while she has the chance. Before she did something stupid and made them hate her.

Samuel leaned on the porch rail. "Just visiting my brother and his darling mate. Would you like to come inside and meet them?"

Morgan was taken off guard by the question. Too many things crammed into a short amount of time. Mating bonds, mating ceremonies, getting beaten and almost raped by her ex, Arthur waking up. But an opportunity was an opportunity. Maddy apparently knew it better than she did; the cat leapt up the steps to the porch, rubbed her head on Samuel's ankle, and trotted her way inside the cracked door. Samuel chuckled as Morgan jogged up. "Apparently I said yes." She said, smiling. He held out an arm, allowing her to go inside before him. With nerves of Jell-O, she pushed open the door.


End file.
